


Hot&Sticky Summer

by banerising



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, M/M, The boys aren't in a band together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 18:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banerising/pseuds/banerising
Summary: What if Dethklok never became a thing? What if the boys will always be drawn together in some way? Read to find out.





	Hot&Sticky Summer

The lights in the bar were dimmed low. On the stage was a guy with red hair, fiery and captivating like fresh lava; Nathan got a beer and sat down at a table just as the guy finished up singing Mötley Crüe’s  _ Smokin’ In the Boys’ Room _ . Finally off-the-clock from his job as a bouncer, he wrapped one hand around the bottle, and wondered exactly what brought him to this bar. It smelled of stale beer, overwhelming amounts of smoke and regret licked at his skin like a blazing fire. Maybe it was because this bar was stuck between two apartment buildings and it was just quiet and slow enough for Nathan to feel like he could get away from it all. If only for a little while.

The low lights, the smoke and the way the guy takes a drink from his beer had Nathan suddenly drawn in like a sailor to a siren at sea. The guy cleared his throat, made some quip about how Mötley Crüe should make people wet, not dry in the throat or something and it got a few chuckles around the bar, but mostly a flushed and slightly surprised stare from Nathan. “This next one is one of my guilty pleasures, keeps up with the slow crawl of the night.” His accent was hard to place for Nathan, but the singer sounded like a Canadian.

As the almost sour sound of the guitar rang in the air and cut through the sudden tension Nathan had; Nathan was very quickly starting to feel like he was watching something strangely intimate and it drove him up the wall. He regretted coming into the bar, but at the same time he felt like he just got a once in a lifetime opportunity to forget all the pressure in his day-to-day life.

For nearly thirteen seconds, Nathan counted, there was nothing but guitar. The singer cleared his throat and then leaned into the mic.

_ “Oh yeah.” _

Nathan felt nauseous and wild all at once. There was another pause.

_ “Alright.” _

Six seconds this time. It felt like an eternity.

_ “Somebody’s Heine' is crowdin' my icebox. _

_ “Somebody's cold one is givin' me chills. _

_ “Guess I'll just close my eyes.” _

There was something too familiar in this song. As the man with fire for hair sang, instead of closing his eyes, he and Nathan made eye contact. It made Nathan feel like he was suspended in time. Nothing else, in the entire world, mattered to him. Not his parents. Not his shitty apartment or his shitty job. Not his stress or his anxiety about not making rent… Nothing but  **this** exact moment, mattered to him.

Another four seconds of guitar strumming… Nathan tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

_ “Oh yeah. _

_ “Alright. _

_ “Feels good. _

_ “Inside.” _

“Fuck.” Nathan whispered, his throat constricting against his audible words.

_ “Flip on the tele,” _

The way this man sang was like the smoke that rose through the air, and it curled its long tendrils around Nathan’s throat, around his heart and around his stomach. The tendrils yanked on him. It yanked on his soul, and tried to rip it out of him.

_ “Wrestle with Jimmy. _

_ “Somethin’ is bubblin’.” _

Nathan’s breathing came a little faster as the other man’s voice lilted along with the lyrics.

_ “Behind my back. _

_ “The Bottle is ready to blow.” _

The guitar made a noise much like how Nathan’s mind felt. It scratched and drew the attention of the bar briefly. The singer’s eyes never leaving Nathan.

_ “Say it ain’t so-whoa-whoa.” _

Inhaling sharply, Nathan felt connected. He felt like his body was the taut string of the guitar and he felt like he was being played so easily and it freaked him out—this wasn’t something he ever expected to feel.

_ “Your drug is a heartbreaker.” _

He felt the sudden urge to get out of the bar. Or perhaps the sudden urge to knock the table over and beg for forgiveness from the singer.

_ “Say it ain’t so-whoa-whoa. _

_ “My love is a life taker…” _

Draining his beer in the thirteen seconds of guitar playing, Nathan couldn’t bring himself to do anything else but that.

_ “I can't confront you.” _

How could he have been so empty up until now?

_ “I never could do.” _

Did he even exist before now?

_ “That which might hurt you.” _

Nathan didn’t care.

_ “So try and be cool.” _

Oh god, was Nathan being obvious?

_ “When I say. _

_ “This way is a waterslide away from me. _

_ “That takes you further every day. _

_ “So be cool.” _

The next few lines came almost too fast for Nathan to want to decipher them, but he can’t help himself. He needed to know. He doesn’t remember this song, but it sounded so familiar to him. This wasn’t his kind of music usually, so it was fucking with Nathan’s head that he was just so drawn in.

As he deciphered the lyrics, he missed counting the break.

_ “Say it ain’t so-whoa-whoa. _

_ “Your drug is a heartbreaker. _

_ “Say it ain’t so-whoa-whoa. _

_ “My love is a life taker.” _

Another sharp intake of breath, this time Nathan swore they’re in sync and it fucked him up.

_ “Dear Daddy, _

_ “I write you in spite of years of silence. _

_ “You've cleaned up, found Jesus, things are good or so I hear. _

_ “This bottle of Steven's awakens ancient feelings. _

_ “Like father, stepfather, the son is drowning in the flood. _

_ “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.” _

There was twenty-two seconds of silence. During this silence, Nathan found that the world slowed down and he could actually think clearly for once. He found that he recognized the way that the singer closed his eyes and put his heart into his music, he recognized some of these feelings of rage toward this invisible man. Nathan wanted to crush this man’s head.

As the singer took the time to breathe a little bit more while he played, Nathan leaned in closer, trying to get a good look at the man but the smoke and the weird intensity Nathan was feeling, had made the world fuzzy. 

Nathan felt like he was a sailor in the mist, seeing the most beautiful creature in the world. Some part of him had felt like this was a trap, and the rest of him didn’t care.

_ “Say it ain’t so-whoa-whoa. _

_ “Your druuug is a heartbreaker. _

_ “Say it ain’t so-whoa-whoa! _

_ “My love… is a life taaaker.” _

The words faded. The guitar played its last few notes and then the small crowd in the bar applauded politely, but none of them knew like Nathan knew.

None of them were moved like Nathan was.

God fucking damn it, he felt like such a snob all the sudden.

“Hey, uh, thanks for lettin’ me play guys and I’ll be back next week.” The singer announced, then he unplugged his guitar, the mic was turned off, the lights dimmed on the stage, and attention was drifted away from the singer.

Nathan had nothing to stop him now. He could just get up and go. Or he could get up and go talk to the artist.

He gripped the empty bottle in his hand, playing with the label briefly before he slowly got up from his chair. This was it. This was  **his** moment. Nathan decided to take life by the damn balls and go for whatever could happen.

Attempting to swallow down his tension, Nathan walked closer to the singer until he got to the stage. “Need any help?” 

Fuck. Fuck. Okay, so that wasn’t the worst thing he could have said, that he could have opened with. At least he was offering something.

When the singer tilted his head up and then tried to get some of his hair away from his face with a short raspberry, Nathan felt his stomach knot up. 

“Uh, sure. Can ya carry an amp?” At the question, Nathan felt some tension be relieved from his stomach but he couldn’t find any words. Damn his stupid mouth.

So, instead of answering verbally, the off-duty bouncer nodded curtly.

Given direction to the amp, Nathan walked over to it and carefully unplugged everything and helped the redhead pack his things without another word. Nathan took two amps, and a duffle of cords, out to this navy blue Chevrolet Camaro from the late 80s and helped pack the items away.

They were alone in the darkness of the parking lot and Nathan found himself staring down at the shorter man. It felt so strange, to be so much bigger than the singer—he thought the other man was so much larger than life on stage, that looking at him in this light was almost too bizarre. Nathan was terrified that if he tried to touch this small man, that he would just devour him… Although that thought had Nathan suddenly feeling like he had never eaten a day in his life, and he was **_starved_** for whatever this man could give him.

As Nathan stared down at the guitarist, the air became colder and sharper around the two of them as tension rose once again. Some part of Nathan wanted to ask ‘what are we?’ but, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. His mouth opened, but his usual freezing up had him being unable to communicate.

The guitarist/vocalist pulled out a cigarette, Nathan hesitated and then leaned closer without meaning to. “Doesn’t that… fuck up your voice?” He asked while watching the redhead light the rolled cigarette up. When he’s met with a laugh, Nathan feels his face flush and he moves a hand to the back of his neck and briefly hid behind a curtain of his long, black hair.

“Yeah. I guess. But it works for that whole throaty thing I got goin’ for me.” The man’s accent was a lot less thick than it was on stage. Nathan wondered if it was a gimmick.

“I’m Nathan.” He finally introduced himself, feeling like the weight of the world was simultaneously being lifted off of him, and then put right back on.

“Pickles.” The redhead—Pickles—seemed apprehensive about giving his name.

“Ooo-kay... Nice to, uh… meet you Pickles.”

The tension went from awkward introductions to—whatever it had been earlier. Nathan looked down at Pickles, looked at him in the crappy, flickering streetlight before he reached out and took the cigarette. He put it between his lips as the redhead raised his eyebrows in response. When Nathan inhaled the rollie, he instantly realized that this was not tobacco.

Pickles gave a low chuckle when the realization hit Nathan about what was in that. “Not your average cig, huh?” The vocalist sounded amused, but looked impressed when Nathan decided to take a hit anyway. When Pickles reached for the joint, neither of them were expecting the taller man to react by grabbing the redhead’s wrist.

He could feel the muscles in Pickles’ wrist flex, he could feel that the singer was getting tense and Nathan felt a rush of anxiety wash over him. Nathan worried that there would be some kind of violent reaction to his sudden movement; he anticipated something—anything and when he’s only met with an open and curious look, Nathan felt like he was leagues out of his normal playing field. He swallowed, trying to gain more courage despite himself. This was something new, something so terribly new. In his short lifetime, he’d barely dated and bedded women, much less men. Much less people like Pickles.

Nathan would come to realize, sometime in the far future that Pickles was an experience all his own.

But for now, Nathan decided to just say it was all or nothing with him and with Pickles. He moved the joint out of his mouth and  _ then _ moved in. Their lips caught in a quick, passionate, and rough kiss. Their teeth clicked together, their tongues only peeking out before Nathan pulled away and drew another hit from the joint. This was a lot for his poor southern and very sexually repressed mind.

“You go around kissing every singer or should I feel special?” Pickles asked, Nathan could read that the humor was hiding something but he couldn’t read what.

After feeling a little better, a little more high, he lowered the joint and exhaled the plume of smoke and gave the redhead a quiet grunt. Nathan slowly moved forward again, he moved the unlit end of the joint to the singer’s lips, watching those fuller lips wrap around the end. They made eye contact again, Nathan felt his stomach clench at those intense eyes and the way they lit up by the dim glow of the joint as Pickles inhaled the drug.

They were like pools. They were welcoming—they were dangerous and Nathan wanted to stare at them forever.

He pulled the joint away. They met halfway, Nathan’s lips already parted and Pickles’ lips coming to meet his. It was weird, how Nathan knew just what to do, he’s never done this before but it felt so—so very erotic. His free hand came up to hold the vocalist’s side and before too long, he’s suddenly pulling the redhead against his body as they exchanged smoke. Pickles exhaled through his nose, his eyes closing and Nathan lifted with the smoke. He lifted off the ground, it felt like, and he wanted nothing more than to just be in the sky and be wrapped around this man.

After they shared the hit Pickles took, Nathan pulled back and actually offered the joint to the redhead this time and let him take it. He was dizzy, out of his mind and quickly gaining a comfortable numb, like he could be on top of the world.

Looking down at Pickles, he watched the way the man’s face lit up almost sinister with the glow of the joint. Nathan wondered if this was bad, if he was doing something  _ terrible _ or if he had just fucked up either of their lives—more than anything, Nathan was worried that Pickles was freaking out on the inside. After all, a weirdly quiet, big guy comes up to you in a bar and asks ‘do you need help’ and gets you alone— _ kisses _ you and then just kind of shuts off… Well that’s fucking weird, and Nathan knows it.

“Hey.” Pickles’ voice drew the bigger man out of his thoughts, it drew him back from the sky and down to earth. Nathan saw that Pickles was close, he could feel the warmth rolling off of him and without hesitating, he leaned down and captured the other man’s lips in another kiss.

It startled Nathan just how willing Pickles was to all of this, the singer seemed to take to being kissed like it was second nature and before long, the kiss flowed naturally into a more intense kiss. He could feel the other man’s tongue at his lips, and while Nathan wasn’t sure before, he was sure now. Chasing after Pickles’ tongue with his own, Nathan’s hands went to the smaller man’s hips and pulled him closer, almost flush against Nathan’s body.

At the sound and the feel of Pickles’ moaning in reaction, Nathan felt like his veins were suddenly on fire. He  _ needed _ to hear  **more** .

Never in his life had Nathan Explosion ever felt so passionate about another person. He had been passionate about only so many things in his short 23 years; dissecting frogs, football, and music. He liked his previous partners but none of them sparked any real reaction out of Nathan—at least, not like Pickles did.

As he felt a white-hot poker cut through his heart, Nathan grabbed a hold of Pickles’ hips and pulled the singer tightly against Nathan’s own body. A low growl escaped from Nathan’s throat, his hands tightened on the slender hips, and then he was moving them—moving Pickles up against the car, and kissing hungrily at his mouth.

What came as a shock to Nathan was that Pickles had not fought against being pushed up against the car—but what came as a bigger shock was the hand on his belt. Nathan, somewhere in the back of his mind, surged with pride as he realized that he had gotten to Pickles.

Some part of Nathan worried about Pickles backing out, for a number of reasons, but the biggest concern was if and when Pickles got into Nathan’s pants, when he would feel just how thick and big Nathan was, would he back down because of his size? Not that Nathan was the kind of guy who disliked his big dick; no—it was the opposite, but he had a few lady partners who turned down penetration simply because of his larger size. It was something he understood, and while he was frustrated, he didn’t push his partners.

When Pickles pulled away from the kiss, Nathan stopped himself from chasing after those intoxicating lips. “Are you okay?” The singer asked, catching Nathan off guard.

“Uhh… Yeah.”  _ Great response, Nathan. Smart as ever. _ He thinks to himself immediately afterward.

As silence found both of them, Nathan feared this was it—this was where they were going to stop, and suddenly the world became heavy and disappointing. He didn’t  _ want _ it to stop, not with Pickles.

He was getting wrapped up in his own head, quickly losing focus of their situation and his hard on starting to become significantly less hard; he was retreating, so he was surprised, yet again, by Pickles’ hand on his body. Feeling the other man’s hand on the front of his jeans was different, it was good, but it was definitely different than a woman’s hand on him. Nathan stopped, he looked at Pickles’ face and swallowed. 

“I’m—uhh… worried,” he finally settled on saying.

The laugh that he got out of Pickles was annoying at first, but Nathan decided he wanted to hear more of it. God, he really just wanted  **all** of Pickles and that scared Nathan. It scared him that he felt so intensely so fast.

“First time with a guy?” Pickles asked in a joking manner, which had Nathan blushing and struggling not to hide behind his hair. The hand left the front of his jeans and touched his face; feeling the warm and embarrassing glow on Nathan’s cheeks, but the hand was insistent and Nathan looked up from their feet to meet Pickles’ intense green eyes. 

_ Fuck _ , he thought to himself as his stomach did flips before tightening—his throat constricted slightly, and his skin crawled as he stared into Pickles’ eyes.

“You’re just not a big talker, are ya?” The singer had a lilt in his tone that hinted at teasing, but at the same time Nathan was still embarrassed. He didn’t speak until he was six and even then, Nathan never really  _ spoke _ that much.

“No… I…” Nathan hesitated, his words getting jumbled in his head and his throat feels tight and uncomfortable. “I… mean you’re right… I’m not much of a talker.” He instantly became disheartened, feeling stupid and slow—God, how could he think that he was ever in the right league to even be kissing somebody as breath-taking and beautiful as Pickles?

When Pickles’ hands cup his face, Nathan looked up from the void he was staring into and bit on his lower lip, clearly flustered and worried—Pickles gave him a smile, then kissed Nathan and had Nathan floored. Before he could chase the kiss and respond, Pickles had pulled away and Nathan respected that. 

“Look. It’s okay, dude.” Even his regular talking voice just had a vice like grip around Nathan’s mind. “Why don’t you let me get my pay an’ then we can get the fuck outta here.” The invitation was unbelievable—Nathan swallowed, was he just really invited to go with Pickles?

“Yeah… Want me to wait here?” He surprised himself with his own voice, and as much as he hated the shock showing on his face, Nathan got to hear Pickles laughing again. That was worth his own embarrassment and he gave a shy smile toward the singer, despite himself.

A sudden pat to his jeans had him grunting noise and taking a step away from Pickles, having the thought that it was a hint to back off. And while he was right, Pickles gave him this cocky smirk and before Nathan knew it, Pickles’ hand was cupping part of Nathan’s shaft through his jeans.

“ **Fuck** .” Nathan growled quietly, his hands curling into fists at his side.

Before he could read Pickles’ face or get more of a handy through his jeans, Nathan was left practically cold when Pickles stepped off to the side and walked inside. Standing there for a moment, reeling and trying to grasp the situation he was in, Nathan glanced down at his pants. He was embarrassed at the noticeable bulge in his pants.

Still reeling, Nathan realized that Pickles didn’t exactly express what he wanted Nathan to do. He felt like he was being tested, not that shit he had to do at school, but he still felt like Pickles was trying to get a rise out of him by keeping silent. Debating for a moment, he finally just decided not to go in. Pickles said he wouldn’t take too long.

Standing there, he didn’t really consider how long it would take for Pickles to get the money from the manager of the bar—so, Nathan was left standing there for what felt like hours, when in reality it was more like ten or fifteen minutes.

When Pickles finally came back out, Nathan straightened up and dropped his arms to his side to try and not feel like he was being moody or upset with how long Pickles had been gone. He watched as Pickles got closer, watched the way the man just seemed to radiate light and energy. Nathan felt his throat tighten as he looked at the singer; like he was being graced by a god.

Nathan briefly wondered if this was what his mother had felt she saw Nathan for the first time, after giving birth to him. Okay that was a weird thought and Nathan scowled at himself, not realizing that Pickles' face had fallen slightly.

Feeling the hand on his hip, Nathan drew out of his scowling moment and looked at Pickles. They shared a silent conversation, ending with Nathan just nodding. Afterward, Pickles had his fingers in Nathan's belt loop, and yanked him forward. Nathan stumbled a little and quickly grabbed a hold of Pickles' shoulders, holding onto him and staring down into his face.

"We should get back to my place." Pickles said in a low voice, drawing Nathan in entirely, exciting and reminding him exactly what he had been feeling before in the bar.

"Okay." Nathan ground out between his teeth, gripping at Pickles' shoulders before he pulled away. They got into the car, and immediately Nathan felt like he was too big. He blushed and tilted his head forward, hiding his face with a curtain of hair so that Pickles couldn't see his reaction-- that was embarrassing on its own, but damn, he really didn't want to be caught blushing. That was like something some kind of virgin would do and, damn it, Nathan wasn't some inexperienced kid.

As the car started and they pulled away from the parking lot, Nathan tried to calm himself, he tried not to be too embarrassed and he kept trying to ground himself in the moment. This was new. But it wasn't bad... It wasn't. He was excited for this, he was excited to have somebody in his arms and to be that intimate with someone again.

A hand touched his thigh, jolting Nathan, and he turned his head to see Pickles looking at him. They passed under a street lamp, the singer's eyes seemed to have glowed in the dark, and Nathan saw the same intensity he had been feeling and  **fuck** he wanted them to be out of the car all the sudden. The car was too tight, too small to do what Nathan wanted to do, and he knew it would just cramp the both of them. He had his fair share of sex in cars and Nathan was always just too big to do it comfortably.

When Pickles looked away, to pay attention to the road, Nathan exhaled and placed his hand over the one on his thigh. He squeezed Pickles' hand, which lead to Pickles moving and threading their fingers together. Nathan's heart hammered in his chest, and panic rode through his system like thunder. This was gay. He was  _ gay _ . God, he was about to go fuck a guy and he was  _ holding hands _ with the guy.

"Nat'n," Pickles spoke up. "You're hurtin my hand."

Letting his grip loosen, Nathan turned his head away, looking out the window. "Sorry..." He muttered just loud enough over the low vibration of the car and the barely audible music on the radio.

They didn't talk the rest of the drive. Nathan didn't squeeze his hand anymore, but he kept it there; he kept fucking holding hands and kept being confused because it felt good.

The car pulled into a garage, Nathan looked around it as the lights flickered on before he turned to Pickles, staring at the man's profile and studying the growing goatee. There was no escaping the fact that this was a man, even with his long, untamed red hair.

He let Pickles' hand go when the man tugged loosely at their hold, and Nathan got out of the car in time with Pickles, closing the door. 

Nathan looked at the gear in the car, "want to get it out now?" he asked, his voice rumbling and echoing slightly in the garage.

"Nah," came the answer, close to Nathan. He turned, once again surprised at how close Pickles was to him. Staring down at Pickles, Nathan reached up without really thinking, and grabbed a hold of the man's chin just under his bottom lip, and moved his thumb up, ghosting it over Pickles' lip. In reaction, Nathan traced his tongue over his own lip in tandem with his thumb.

As Pickles opened his mouth, Nathan did not even hesitate. He slipped his thumb past the threshold, against the teeth and then against Pickles' tongue. His eyes dilated at the feel of the wet, warm tongue against the pad of his thumb and watched as Pickles closed his lips around Nathan's thumb. He felt the tongue roll over the head of his thumb, against the nail and then felt a gentle sucking, the soft texture against his thumb. He pulled his hand back quickly. 

"Room." Nathan's voice was thick and full of tension.

Pickles took his wrist, and he pulled Nathan into the house. He lead Nathan through the kitchen attached to the garage, down a hallway and past two doors. As he walked with Pickles, Nathan felt like the walls were tightening and getting closer to him. He led Nathan to the door at the end of the hallway. The walk felt too long, his wrist like it was on fire.

The door to the bedroom opened, as did Pickles' mouth, but Nathan didn't care. He pulled his hand free, turned Pickles to face him, and instead of kissing him (as much as Nathan wanted to) he picked the redhead up by the hips. Nathan moved Pickles across the room with a few long strides, and then dropped Pickles down onto the bed.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Nathan fell to his knees in front of the singer. He looked up nervously, but trying his best not to be nervous. He licked slowly along his lower lip before running his hands from Pickles' knees to his hips. He had to be sure about this.

After resting his palms on Pickles' thighs, Nathan took a long pause and realized that he was out of his depth. He wanted to ask if he should continue with the way he was going, if it was alright or okay but he didn't want to seem like a pussy.

Instead, Nathan moved his left hand from Pickles' thigh and to his stomach, pushing him back a bit. Pickles was almost too close for comfort.

When Pickles got the clue and leaned away, resting on his palms, Nathan reached the front of Pickles' jeans. He forced himself to actually look at what he was doing, rather than look at the other man's face. Nathan thought about leaning in and mouthing at Pickles through his jeans, as he had liked it when girls did that to him in the past, but he didn't know if the same sort of sexiness would actually get through it if an amateur like Nathan did it.

"Hey... y'sure you're okay with this shit, dood?" Pickles asked, pulling Nathan out of his thoughts.

"Yeah." Elegant answer, Nathan mentally grumbled before he decided to lean in and nose against the slight bulge in Pickles' pants.

"Ohh, _fuck_."

A smirk appeared on Nathan's face; seemed like he was on the right track. Good. Maybe he shouldn't feel too ashamed of his lack of skill in this subject. That subject being sex. And blow jobs.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Just as Nathan started to pull back, he felt a hand on the back of his head, tangling slightly in his hair along with an encouraging movement of Pickles' hips. Nathan looked up from the zipper and to the singer's face--he suddenly knew why he really was doing this.

Although, it surprised Nathan when he saw that Pickles was looking down at him too. Nathan realized that he couldn't look away or hide behind his hair at this moment, instead he had to stare into Pickles' eyes.

While looking at Pickles' eyes, the darkness of the room seemed oppressive, and the only light came from those arresting green eyes. Nathan became drawn in all over again.

He was at sea again.

Nathan swallowed thickly, forcing himself to break eye contact and turn his attention back to the task at hand. He unzipped the jeans, each click of teeth on the zipper sounded too loud, as did every breath he took and beat of his heart. Fuck, he was dizzy.

Once the fly was down all the way, Nathan moved his hands to the top of Pickles' jeans. As he started to pull them down, Pickles lifted his hips to make it easier. Somewhat grateful that he didn't have to struggle with that, Nathan moved out of the way enough to get those jeans down past Pickles' knees.

He stopped at the sight of the underwear the singer was wearing. Also at the sight of the dick trapped behind the thin layer of  _ panties _ . Jesus christ. That really was a dick and he really was doing this with another guy.

He was seriously about to give his first blow job.

Looking back up to the singer's face, Nathan swore he saw Pickles look... embarrassed. He didn't want to have the other man shy away, so he palmed at Pickles' dick slightly, clumsily before he pulled the silk panties down with the jeans.

Without telling Pickles what he wanted to do, Nathan moved Pickles. He forced Pickles to lie on his back, moved his legs around either side of Nathan’s head and leaned down, licking a broad stripe over Pickles' balls without getting too into his own head.

Nathan steadied his hands on Pickles' hips while he licked the base of the singer's cock. He glanced upward, watching Pickles watch him and made a sound like a growl before he pushed himself further. He mouthed at one of Pickles' balls and drew it into his mouth, sucking on it.

Hearing Pickles' breathing hitch was all the reward he needed. Nathan sucked a little harder, thinking about all of the things that  _ he  _ liked during a blow job. He moved his left hand from Pickles' hip, to his dick and stroked it awkwardly. The head of his cock was just barely past Nathan's palm, barely just big enough in his large hands.

After sucking a little more at Pickles' balls, Nathan pulls away with a slightly and accidentally obscene pop before he licks his lips and licking the base of the redhead's cock, moving his hand to pin Pickles' hip again. He glanced upward at Pickles again, feeling the hand tighten in his hair was unique to Nathan-- especially due to the fact that he hardly let people touch his hair, but here he was, growling in pleasure like this? Like he actually liked the fact that Pickles’ hand was in his hair.

He decided to go for more of a less pussy approach and just pulled the head of the cock into his mouth, leaning over Pickles’ lithe body, and his hips that were almost womanly-- he heard and felt Pickles’ reaction. The way Pickles moaned and how his hips twitched under Nathan’s slightly forceful hold, had Nathan wanting to continue more. His tongue came and rolled under the head of the cock, licking the slit and pressed his tongue into it a little even before sucking softly.

The taste was gross.

If Pickles had a bigger dick, Nathan knew he wouldn’t be able to do this.

When he got too far into his head with this, Nathan pulled away and pulled a face. He gripped at those pale hips and dug his nails in-- as soon as he heard 'Nat'n?' coming from Pickles, he pulled his hands away and realized that he had too much strength to keep a hold of Pickles. None of his partners could never handle his strength.

The feeling of the hand letting go of his hair and then grabbing at his forearm was-- different. He looked up at Pickles, the guy looked angry if Nathan could guess from the darkness of the place. Nathan swallowed this weird thickness in his throat as the other man yanked on his hair just enough to get the idea across. The head of the cock pushed messily against his lips and Nathan couldn’t stop from gasping, which Pickles took advantage of and the head of the other man’s cock slipped in, pushing over his tongue and it felt-- it felt good weirdly.

He swallows and sucks on the head, feeling Pickles’ thighs twitch around his head wildly. It drove him a little further, and he decided he couldn’t do this anymore. As much as he loved having the feeling of the legs around him, he just couldn’t finish.

Pulling back, Nathan looked up at Pickles while the guy twitched a little and panted.

Nathan wrapped his large hand around the shaft and head, lightly stroking it before bringing his thumb down to the head and rubbed the saliva and precum around. And he worked at Pickles’ small dick until the guy was so close to cumming, and Nathan could see it. The way the stomach fluttered and the way those thighs twitched.

A sudden, and intense desire filled Nathan. He turned his head and bit down HARD on Pickles’ delicate, pale thigh. Surprisingly, Pickles just shouted loudly and came in splurts on Nathan’s cupped hand--after he came, Pickles’ whole body just sagged and his dick got even smaller as he softened.

Looking at the bleeding bite mark, Nathan felt entranced and he licked at the blood.

Pickles twitched, and groaned, “gonna have to keep you.” Pickles muttered, before passing out and dreaming of Nathan in a collar.

Deciding he really, really wouldn’t mind finding out what that meant, Nathan looked at the cum in his hand, then looked at the sleeping figure, before he tasted the cum. It tasted nasty, he quickly wiped the cum on the bedding, before he stood up, grabbing Pickles a bit before he laid down on the bed and held onto the redhead. Nathan had decided he would do anything for Pickles, even wear a collar if that’s what the man wanted.


End file.
